


Wishing On Paper Stars

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Spoilers for Episode 84 Of Campaign 2, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 04:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: “What are you doing?” Beau asks. She can see now that the top part of the box next to Jester contains several long, thin, colorful strips of paper.“Making paper stars,” Jester says matter of factly. “When I was little I used to look out the window of my room and wish on stars all the time, and I’d get upset whenever I couldn’t see them when it was cloudy or raining. So Momma taught me how to make paper ones to wish on, so I wouldn’t be sad.” Jester take a sky blue strip of paper from the box and starts folding it. “And I still like to do it sometimes when I can’t sleep.”
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 31
Kudos: 178





	Wishing On Paper Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I know it says one-sided attraction and light pining in the tags, but I'd describe the tone of this fic as.... happily wistful? Is that a thing? It's not sad, is what I'm trying to say.

Beau is used to having a hard time falling asleep, her mind often keeping her awake unless her body is completely and utterly worn out, and tonight, sleeping on the Ball-Eater, practically face down in the pillow of her narrow bunk, is no exception. Part of it is simple physical discomfort, the position she’s trying to fall asleep in, the burn of her new tattoo. She doesn’t mind the pain of it, it’s a good pain, like the burn in the muscles after a workout or a fight. Still, it makes it hard to sleep, though she dozes occasionally until some thought or another drifts across her mind. A thought such as oh, Jester with only Beau’s sash to cover her chest, the ink of her tattoo glittering in the setting sun—

Beau huffs out an irritated sigh into her pillow, wishing there was some easy way to turn off her brain that _didn’t_ involve fighting or alcohol or a really nice orgasm. Looking for a fight in the middle of the night wouldn’t be a challenge for her, but gods she really didn’t want to think about how much it would hurt if someone punched her brand new tattoo. Fjord slapping it had been excruciating enough thank you. As for orgasms, well, okay maybe she _had_ once or twice had fantasies where she would be secretly getting herself off in the same room as Jester (or sometimes even in the same bed) and it’d turn out that Jester would be _really_ into it and all, but Beau wasn’t going to actually _do_ that. That only left alcohol, and, well, drinking with friends was one thing. Drinking in the middle of the night because you couldn’t sleep was another.

Beau sighs again. Maybe Jester is awake too. Sometimes when Beau can’t sleep and Jester is still awake, she tells Beau stories about the sea, about mermaids and women with the skins of seals until Beau falls asleep again. Beau turns her head and winces. “Ow— hey Jess, you awake?” She whispers, squinting into the dark of the cabin. “Jester?”

There’s no response from the other bed, and Beau reaches for her darkvision goggles, holding them up to her face without actually putting them on. “Jester?”

Jester isn’t in bed, and okay, that’s not a reason to panic. Her bag is still at the foot of her bed, and she wouldn’t leave the ship without all her things, not to mention without telling Beau or leaving a note. Maybe she couldn’t sleep either and decided to go up on deck and look at the stars or something. She’s fine. Beau closes her eyes and sighs. She’s probably fine. Just up on deck perhaps. Alone. Crying—

Beau’s eyes open again. Why had she thought that?

_Because she’s been missing her mom, and she was worried about missing Travelercon, and then there’s Yasha— and I know Jester. She doesn’t want anyone to see her when she’s sad._

Now that Beau’s imagined Jester crying, she can’t unsee it. It only takes her a moment to get dressed and head up onto the deck, leaving the darkvision goggles behind when she realizes that the strap would cross her new tattoo. As long as there’s some moonlight once she gets above decks she should be okay.

There isn’t any moonlight though, and no starlight either, the sky covered in clouds. But there is a lantern burning near the prow of the ship, and in the flickering light she can see Jester’s distinctive silhouette as she sits on the deck. Her sketchbook is sitting next to her on one side, and on the other is a wooden box that Jester keeps her colored inks and other crafting supplies in. Jester is hunched over slightly, but her shoulders aren’t shaking like she’s crying, and the tip of her tail is raised and waving back and forth slightly, not limp on the deck.

Beau has made mental notes of everyone’s body language. It’s not weird at all that she knows Jester’s so much better than anyone else’s. “Jester?” Beau keeps her voice low as she walks across the deck. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

For a moment Jester’s tail stops waving, then it starts again, a little more enthusiastically as she looks over her shoulder. “No. My new tattoo is very pretty, but also sort of painful, and it was really hard to get comfy. So I healed it a little and then it got _itchy._ ” Jester says the last word like it’s a personal betrayal. “And then I was _awake_ awake so I thought I’d get some fresh air, you know?” Her tail thumps on the deck. “Does your tattoo hurt too? You want me to—“ Jester wiggles her fingers.

“I mean, the pain isn’t _that_ bad,” Beau says, and it’s not a lie. “But yeah, it was making it tough to sleep.” She lowers herself to the deck next to Jester as Jester reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. There’s that tingly rush of warmth that Beau’s become accustomed to and the pain recedes, which is a relief. Jester is right though, it _does_ itch. Beau rubs at the back of her neck gently. “Thanks Jess.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Jester says, fidgeting with something in her lap without looking at it. “Your tattoo came out really great.” There’s a pause. “Molly would have liked it.”

Beau keeps rubbing at the back of her neck. She had gotten the tattoo for herself first and foremost, but she can’t lie even to herself and say that she hadn’t gotten it for him too. “Yeah, he would have. Also would have probably poked the hell out of it too.”

Jester giggles quietly. “He totally would have.” She stops fidgeting with the whatever it is and drops it into a small glass jar that Beau hadn’t seen before, which is filled with tiny colorful _somethings_.

“What are you doing?” Beau asks. She can see now that the top part of the box next to Jester contains several long, thin, colorful strips of paper.

“Making paper stars,” Jester says matter of factly. “When I was little I used to look out the window of my room and wish on stars all the time, and I’d get upset whenever I couldn’t see them when it was cloudy or raining. So Momma taught me how to make paper ones to wish on, so I wouldn’t be sad.” Jester take a sky blue strip of paper from the box and starts folding it. “And I still like to do it sometimes when I can’t sleep.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Beau says, and thinks about how she used to lean out her window at night and wish on stars as well. She had wished for friends too. “What kinda stuff did you use to wish for?”

“Oh, I used to wish for all sorts of things, like ponies, or new paints, or friends, or Momma to be happy, or for you know, my dad to come back.” Jester’s voice is quiet, and not the kind of Jester quiet where Beau can hear that bright energy just beneath the surface. It’s the sad sort of quiet, one that Beau thinks the others don’t normally get to hear coming from Jester. “And when I got older I used to wish for a handsome prince to come take me away. But everything’s different now.”

“Yeah,” Beau agrees softly. _Do you still wish for a handsome prince, Jester?_ She inwardly scowls at herself for the thought. Not everything is about her and her crush. “What do you wish for now? Or is it like birthday wishes, and if you tell someone then it won’t come true?”

Jester’s tail thumps softly on the deck, slow and contemplative. “I think it still works if I tell you,” she says finally. “I—I want Yasha back.” There’s a quiver in her voice, just the barest tremor. “I want Yasha back and I want her to be _okay_.”

“Yeah.” Beau leans slightly against Jester’s shoulder, feeling Jester lean back against her. She thinks about how Jester is the one always scrying on Yasha, the things Jester has actually _seen_ Yasha doing, while Beau can only imagine them. Sometimes Beau has been woken up by Jester talking to Yasha, magic faintly humming in the air between them in their shared room. Beau thinks about how, even now, she’s listening for thunder, and has been ever since they all crawled out of that tomb under the ground. “Yeah, I want that too.”

Jester drops the little paper star into the jar with the others and reaches for another piece of paper.

“Hey Jess, can you teach me how to do that?” She knows Jester really likes when people join her in making things, plus, well, Beau has things she’d like to wish for too.

Beau is rewarded with the _tap tap tap_ of a happy tiefling tail against the deck. “Oh sure!” She hands Beau the long strip of paper she had been holding and takes another for herself. “Okay, first you like, tie it in a knot in the end like this— and then you fold this end here— and fold this here— and then here—“

At the end of all the folding, Jester is holding a a perfect paper star. Beau is holding— well—

“That is a very good first try,” Jester says kindly as Beau scowls at the mostly crumpled ball of paper resting in her palm. Jester takes it from her and starts trying to poke it into shape, which results in it becoming a mostly crumpled ball with points.

Beau’s next attempt is a little better, or at least, it looks like a star if she squints at it. “Those don’t count,” Beau insists, but Jester just shakes her head.

“They don’t have to be _perfect_ , Beau. It’s enough that you made them while thinking about something you really want.”

Beau scowls some more. “I uh— kinda forgot the wishing part.” She had been so focused on trying to get things right that she had forgotten why she had been trying in the first place.

“That’s okay! You can do the wishing part at any time, technically,” Jester says with authority. “Want me to help with the next one?”

“Sure,” Beau says, and then suddenly Jester is behind her, draped over Beau’s back, reaching around to guide Beau’s hands, handing her another paper strip, this one a dark blue.

“Is this okay? It’s not hurting your tattoo, is it?”

“Uh— no, it’s fine,” Beau says, and oh no, is she blushing? “You’re good.”

“Good! Okay, now, tie a knot in the end and then take this short part here—“

It’s easier to make stars with Jester helping her, but harder to think with Jester pressed up against her back. Beau remembers a different night on the ship with Jester hugging her from behind. She had told Jester she’d loved her then, and at the time she hadn’t thought about what sort of love she had been trying to express, platonic or romantic. It had been enough that Beau had said the words, words she hadn’t said to _anyone_ in so long, had said them without fear or hesitation. And Jester had said them back, just as easily, of course she had. Jester was so full of love, it was no wonder that everyone else seemed to love her too.

_It’s just a crush_ , Beau tries to tell herself as her hands move under Jester’s guidance. _Just like your crush on Yasha._ And that’s a complicated set of feelings right there as well, because it’s not the same thing at all. It’s not better or worse, but it’s two entirely different sets of circumstances.

“There!” Jester say happily. “Now you have three stars!”

Beau stares at the stars in her palm. They’re all shades of blue, she realizes, one cobalt, one dark blue, and one like the blue-white afterimage of lightning. One more round and less pointy, one almost star shaped, and one perfect. If Caduceus was here, he’d make a metaphor out of it.

“What are you going to wish for?” Jester asks as her tail curls around Beau in a hug.

“I wish—“ Beau stops, suddenly feeling shy and a little foolish. Funny how Jester makes her feel that way. “Do I have to say it out loud?”

Jester’s hands, still on hers, give her a little squeeze. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Three stars. Three wishes. _I wish for us to get Yasha back,_ Beau thinks first. She wants to wish for Yasha to be _okay_ , but that seems like an awful lot to ask for from a piece of folded paper. That’s going to take work and not just wishes. Still.

Beau puts a star into the little glass jar.

_I wish for Jester to be happy. Whatever— whatever that means for her._ That might mean Jester being in love and finding happiness with someone who isn’t her, but so what? Jester is under _no_ obligation to return Beau’s feelings, and Beau knows that logically, even if the thought stings a little emotionally.

Beau puts the second star into the glass jar and stares at the last star in her hand, the one that’s most imperfect. She should make a wish for herself, right? What had she used to wish for when she was a kid? For her parents not to be mad at her all the time just for being who she was? Well she didn’t have to worry about that any more, they didn’t want anything to do with her, so fuck that. She had wished for pets, birds and rats, but, well, Jester seemed to have a hard enough time keeping Sprinkle alive during their adventures, and Professor Thaddeus hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Maybe she could wish for a really _big_ pet that could take care of itself, like a wolf or a bear. But then again, the entire group had forgotten their damn moorbounders while teleporting, and she’d hate to lose a pet the same way. What else had she used to wish for?

Against her back, Beau feels Jester yawn and put her chin on Beau’s shoulder, her tail half curling around Beau’s waist.

Beau yawns back and then smiles, tipping the last star into the jar, unwished on.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, I've been sitting on this title and more or less this concept for literal months, but last week's episode made me want to dust it off! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I'm angel-ascending on Tumblr and angel_in_ink on Twitter if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


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